


Crash Landing

by RaeDMagdon



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clarke likes it rough, Doggy Style, F/F, SMUTCATION, Strap-On, minor D/s, poor emotional babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 13:52:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11715705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeDMagdon/pseuds/RaeDMagdon
Summary: It’s moments like this when her mind is blissfully empty. With Lexa thrusting in and out of her, burying her shaft so deep that Clarke can feel the leather straps around her lover’s thighs, the rest of the world disappears. There is nothing else—only Lexa and fullness and, oh God, need.





	Crash Landing

**Author's Note:**

> Smutcation continues!!!
> 
> "god i feel really awks about this. but for the smut-cation i was hoping for a fic with lexa wearing a strap on (with clarke, obvs). maybe from behind...? maybe with some biting (nothing to serious though, like, an empassioned nip)"
> 
> Follow @raedmagdon on tumblr for more.

There is a special spot inside of Clarke that turns the world to spinning white stars. Whenever Lexa hits it, her limbs go weak with trembling. Sweat breaks out along the back of her neck and rolls down the furrow of her spine. Her breaths rise into moans, and her core becomes a melted pool of warmth. And when Lexa hits it over and over again, constantly,  _deliberately,_  there is nothing Clarke can do but fall forward from her elbows and sob, breasts dragging along the bedfurs as she tilts her hips up for more.

It’s moments like this when her mind is blissfully empty. With Lexa thrusting in and out of her, burying her shaft so deep that Clarke can feel the leather straps around her lover’s thighs, the rest of the world disappears. There is nothing else—only Lexa and fullness and, oh God, need.

Maybe she loves it because her brain is always working. From minute one on Earth, she’s had to think and plan and decide, with no time to rest. Even at night, her dreams are full of tears and screaming. But with Lexa pumping in and out of her, Clarke’s tears are happy and her cries are joyful. There is nothing to think about, nothing to decide, and nothing to be afraid of.

Clarke has learned that loving Lexa feels wonderful. There is nothing like the rush of warmth Lexa makes her feel, the comfort of being seen and known completely by a kindred soul. But she hadn’t counted on how wonderful numbness would be too, how ecstasy could blot out even the worst nightmares, cure the most haggard emotional exhaustion. When Lexa fucks her into the mattress, her bonds are loosened enough for peace to settle in.

But it is not a quiet peace. It is hot, roiling, a fire that licks along every inch of Clarke’s skin and passes over to Lexa’s—which she knows because the more she flushes, the harder Lexa fucks her. The burn between her legs is bliss and the open air against her clit is torture.

“Fuck me,” she mumbles, lifting her ass higher, spreading her thighs even as she squirms atop the furs. “Lexa, fuck me,  _please…_ ”

Clarke doesn’t need to beg. Lexa is all too happy to speed up the rhythm, and each time she batters that hot-white spot, Clarke has to swallow a yelp. It’s almost too much, but at the same time, it’s not enough. She could never get enough of Lexa, not in a thousand years or a thousand-thousand.

She’s just lucky Lexa knows the same hunger. Lexa bends low over her back, nipping her shoulder with a selfish snap of teeth. The bite hurts in the best way, and Clarke shudders. As much as she adores making love with Lexa among golden afternoon rays and soft pink sunsets, she loves this more, the sweaty, clinging grip of a sweltering summer night, when the city sleeps and Lexa claims her like an animal.

If she were on her back, she would rake her nails between Lexa’s shoulders. She would scratch and claw and bite, and give as good as she was getting. But this helplessness is perfect too, the way Lexa holds her hips just so, the way Lexa plunges without ceasing, like the waves of a mighty ocean. It’s all Clarke can do to keep her head above water and breathe.

When Lexa releases her shoulder and seizes her hair, yanking her head up, Clarke is nearly there. She is quivering, over-sensitive, clenching so hard that each drag of the shaft within her brings with it a wave of dizziness. But it is the words Lexa growls into the back of her neck that break her: “I’m going to take you until you come for me. And then, when you’re exhausted and whimpering beneath me, I’m going to do it all over again.”

Clarke’s peak is a crash landing. Heat flashes, she screams, and the impact shakes her to the core. A flood gushes from between her legs, out around the leather shaft and down the front of Lexa’s thighs, and each jerk of Lexa’s hips makes more. It’s quick, brutal, and so satisfying that tears and drool run from her face onto the blankets. The stars are no longer flashing. They’re blaring bright enough to burn, and Lexa is still hitting that same fucking spot, pressing into it without mercy.

By the time she’s finished, Clarke is every bit the exhausted, whimpering mess Lexa had claimed she would be. She can’t stop shaking and her breaths are shallow and uneven. Still, a smile spreads across her face. She begins to laugh quietly through tears, simply from sheer relief. It’s true that this is just a bandage for deeper wounds, and she will have to spend the years of peace they have earned in search of true healing. But… this helps. It helps, probably more than Lexa even knows.

Lexa’s hips still at last, and she runs both palms along Clarke’s backside, rubbing comforting circles on the soft cheeks.  _“Yu ste ait, niladon?”_  Lexa asks, in a voice so full of love and concern that Clarke almost forgets her low threat from less than a minute earlier. This is the real Lexa, the one who holds her after the nightmares that keep her awake, the one who tries to shoulder as many of her burdens as possible even though Heda carries so many of her own. (And, of course, Clarke does the same in return.)

“Good,” she pants, propping herself back on her elbows so she can grin at Lexa from over her shoulders. “So good, Lexa.”

“Well then…” Lexa resumes her rhythm, slow at first, and Clarke gasps. Coming once has only made her needier, and Lexa seems to know it, because her next thrust is a hard, forceful stroke that hits all of Clarke’s deepest places.

Clarke groans and lowers her breasts back to the bed. Lexa may call her  _niladon_ , and she may enjoy falling to her knees from time to time, but she much prefers to be on all fours.

**Author's Note:**

> "Yu ste ait" just means 'are you all right'?
> 
> "Niladon" is a made up Trig word for "one who kneels", which is Lexa's teasing nickname for Clarke.


End file.
